Jacket Sleeves
by MaxMattel666
Summary: Sam's been seeing Lucifer, and after the incident in the warehouse, he realizes there's only one way to keep the hallucinations at bay. To focus on his real life pain. Set during the very beginning of season 7. Probably won't follow the show's plot after episode 2 of season 7. Mild swearing and self injury. Possible trigger warning so please be careful xoxo
1. Chapter 1

"Leave me alone!" Sam yelled, his gun raised. Deans' eyes widened as his little brother screamed at the empty air.

"Woah! This does not require a gun." Dean took a half step back, raising his arms.

"I said, leave me alone!" Sam yelled louder this time, the gun shaking in his hands. A loud cracking sound rang in Deans' ears; Sam had unloaded two shots at the wall. Dean moved forwards towards Sam, speaking in a calm voice,

"Sam. Look at me. What? You don't know what's real?" Dean raised an eyebrow, keeping his hands upheld in front of him as he approached his brother. "I have been to hell okay; I know what torture feels like. Enough to know that it feels," Dean paused, looking at Sam's shaking hands. "Different." He lowered his own hands a little before going on. "Different than the rest of the bullshit pain we feel up here."

"But-but you don't know that for sure; I don't know that for sure." Sam's voice quaked as he spoke, hands shaking, lips quivering.

Dean gestured to his brother, "Let me see your hand." Sam looked at his right hand, the one holding the gun. "No, no, the other hand. Let me see the other hand Sammy." Sam glanced at the bandage on his left hand, covering his stitches.

"Oh well aren't you Florence Nightingale?" Sam's head whipped around, only to see Lucifer staring back at him, a smug smile across his face.

"Sam!" Dean's loud voice startled him again and his brother grabbed a hold of his injured hand. Taking Sam's hand in his own Dean said, "This. This is real. Not months ago, not in Hell, but now: right now. I was with you when you sliced it, I was the one who stitched it up. Look!" Dean dug his fingers into Sam's wound, twisting his hand. Sam winced loudly in pain, his eyes flickered up, and Lucifer was standing right there in front of him, next to Dean.

"Oh you've dealt a lot more with pain," Lucifer said as he winked at the hunter.

"This! This feels different," Dean pressed harder into Sam's hand, "I feel different. Right?!" Dean raised his voice, and Sam jerked his now bleeding hand away. A look of shock washed over Dean's face; he looked down at his own hands, then back at his brother.

"Yeah, yeah I think so.." Sam trailed off, his words breathy and quiet. Lucifer stepped forward towards him,

"You sure about that Sammy?" The former angel said smiling. Sam began to shake again, his eyes narrowing in anger. Sam pressed his right thumb into his wound, bringing more blood up through the bandaging. The more 'real' pain he felt, the less he could see Lucifer, the quieter he got. Sam's let out a small groan of pain, still able to see the fallen angel.

"Sam, you're out okay? We got you out. Sammy? Believe me. Okay? You gotta believe me." Dean pleaded. Sam pressed harder into his cut, "Do you understand?" He asked. Sam shook his head up and down,

"yeah. Yeah I understand." Dean wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but he knew that he couldn't. He began to think, what if this wasn't the kind of thing that he could fix? What if Sam would always see Lucifer? Then Sam's phone rang, interrupting Dean's thoughts.

"Bobby!" Sam answered, trying not to sound as frantic as he actually was.

"The hospital case if definitely our thing. Bled black ooze. I'll meet you at the house and we can regroup." That was all Dean was able to hear through the phone. Bobby hung up and Sam pulled the phone away from his ear, looking up at his brother. Dean looked worriedly at Sam, "okay, let's go." Sam followed Dean silently back to the impala, trailing behind his big brother. The two hunters got into their car wordlessly, and remained silent throughout the drive back to Bobby's. Sam tried to sleep, the whole ordeal had shaken him up badly, but in all honestly, he wanted to be asleep so that Dean wouldn't try to talk to him about what had happened. It wasn't Dean's style to talk about feelings, or as he called it, "having a chick flick moment". But to Sam, the fear was still there. Now Dean knew that he definitely was not okay. No matter what Sam said now, Dean would always know Lucifer was up there in Sam's head, tormenting him.

Not long later, the pair pulled up at Bobby's place. The older hunter greeted them in the kitchen, "You two want a beer?" He asked. Dean accepted, but Sam declined. Bobby debriefed them a little bit about what had gone on at the hospital, how the Leviathans had taken over roles of doctors and nurses, feeding on the patients, and how they bled black goo. Dean tried to pay attention as best he could to Bobby, glancing besides him at Sam every few minutes. Sam had settled down a little throughout the car ride, he wasn't shaking anymore. Instead, Sam was ringing his hands, thumb pressed into his wound. He wasn't really paying attention to Bobby as he spoke, he could hear Lucifer's quieted whispers slowly growing louder in his head even though Sam couldn't see him again yet. Instead he tried to focus on the pain in his hand, his real pain. "Sam?" Bobby asked, Sam looked up away from his hand. "You okay? You should probably get some sleep.." Bobby looked down at Sam's bloodied bandage, "Go change that or it'll get infected ya igit." Bobby shook his head a little, taking care of these boys got the best of him sometimes. Dean padded his brother on the shoulder,

"Yeah, you better try and get some sleep Sammy." Dean looked at him with pleading eyes.

Sam sighed, "okay." The young hunter got up from his seat on the couch and walked upstairs to the guest bedroom that he shared with Dean. Once he entered the room, Sam pulled off his shirt and headed for the bathroom. He looked in the mirror, his eyes were red. Sam rubbed at them with his good hand. He looked down at his left, he really should change the bandaging; he thought. He unraveled the gauze from around his palm, the stitches oozy with half dried blood.

He went to open the mirror cabinet when he heard it, "Oh Saaaaaam" the voice cooed. He turned around, and Lucifer laughed. "Didn't think you could get away that easy, did ya?" He cocked his head a little to the left, smiling at Sam. The young hunter backed up, placing his hands on the sink. "Hurting your hand to make me go away? Tsk tsk," Lucifer shook his finger at Sam, "doing my job for me now, torturing yourself?" The fallen angel laughed again. Sam pushes his left hand back into the sink, the pressure against the reddened flesh stung, but Lucifer's image wasn't fading. Sam turned around, trying to open the medicine cabinet. "Not like there's anything in there that can make me go away Sammy," Lucifer mocked. Sam looked frantically through the medicine cabinet, he could hear Lucifer's lowly take a step forwards. Sam frantically searched through the medicine cabinet, not really knowing what he was looking for. Sleeping pills? No. Nail clippers? No. Nail polish remover? Why did Bobby have nail polish remover? And then he saw it. A small red and silver Swiss army knife. Sam pulled it from the small glass shelf, and turned around; he was face to face with Lucifer. Sam pointed the small knife at his tormentor's chest, Lucifer chuckles and shook his head, "Oh Sammy…" he trailed off, rolling his eyes. "This is just too much fun!"

"This isn't for you Lucifer, this is for me," Sam turned the knife around, bringing it to his left arm and without thinking, sliced across his flesh. Lucifer's image crackled like static. It was working. Sam tried to focus on the pain, tried not to look at Lucifer. He drug the knife across his arm again, this time cutting a little deeper. He groaned out in pain, biting down on his lip. He couldn't make out what Lucifer was saying now. Sam made a third cut, Lucifer was gone. Sam dropped the knife to the floor. Oh shit, he thought, what had he done? Sam took a moment to breathe, and rested his back against the off-white porcelain sink. Sam knew this was a bad idea. Maybe he could just press into his hand a little harder next time. But it hadn't worked only a matter of minutes ago. Sam felt his face get hot, his eyes stung. He was crying. Sam turned back around and turned the faucet on. He ran his arm under the cold water, watching the blood be washed away. He pressed a towel against the fresh cuts, they had stopped bleeding; they weren't very deep. Sam breathed a little sigh of relief. They'd heal up in a few days. He ran the small knife along the towel, cleaning it of blood and placed it back into the medicine cabinet. Sam opened the bathroom door and peaked his head out, Dean hadn't come back upstairs yet. He didn't know how long he had been alone for, but he figured it couldn't have been more than ten minutes or so. Sam quietly opened the bathroom door all the way, and practically ran over to his black duffle back, fishing through it trying to find a long sleeve shirt. Thankfully it was fall, so wearing long sleeves outside wouldn't be a problem or provoke any suspicion. As Sam pulled a grey shirt over his head, a feeling of guilt washed over him. It's not like Dean had said he shouldn't do anything specific to keep Lucifer away, but hiding things from his brother had never turned out well for Sam. He didn't want to lie to his brother, Dean was practically his best friend. But he knew he couldn't tell him, Dean wouldn't understand. Right now it seemed like this was the only was to keep Lucifer, well his hallucinations of Lucifer, away. Focusing on his physical pain, making himself feel real again. Keeping that control over what he could actually feel. Exhausted, Sam pushed his duffle bag over onto the floor and climbed under the blue covers of the twin bed adjacent to Dean's. He rubbed this thumb over the cuts, the soft t-shirt fabric rubbed against his skin. Sam laid there, thinking about what he had done, the things that Lucifer had said, thinking about his brother, about Bobby, about Cas. But soon exhaustion took hold of him and Sam fell asleep. Dean had come upstairs only half an hour later, relieved to find his little brother curled up underneath his covers. Dean slipped into his own bed, and wished that tomorrow would be better.


	2. Chapter 2

The room was dark when Sam woke up the next morning; rolling over he checked his phone, 6:21 am. The young hunter groaned and rubbed at his tired eyes with his right hand. Dean was still sleeping soundly in the bed next to Sam's, he probably wouldn't be awake for at least another two hours. Sam peeled back his sleeve and looked down at the small red lines on his forearm. He sighed deeply to himself, still regretting last night's actions. Maybe he'd try the hand thing again, Sam thought; this time he'd remember to press harder. Wearily, Sam pulled himself out of bed and headed into the bathroom. He went to open the medicine cabinet, but caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hazel eyes were rimmed with purple, maybe he hadn't slept as well as he thought. Sam pushed his hair out his eyes and opened the medicine cabinet. He took out some Neosporin and rubbed it gently along his healing cuts. The last thing he wanted was to get an infection. If he got sick, Dean would definitely notice; and Dean noticing was not something Sam wanted to deal with right now. He felt guilty enough already. Dean wouldn't understand… He too had been to Hell, but he didn't have Lucifer singing Stairway To Heaven in his ear at breakfast, lunch and dinner.

"Sam? Hey are you up?" Dean groaned from the bedroom. Frantic, Sam put back the Neosporin and rolled down in sleeve just as his brother opened the bathroom door. Shit, Sam thought. He forgot to lock it. "Hey man, I gotta brush my teeth." Dean yawned and rubbed his eyes; thankfully he was too sleepy to notice his brothers' jumpiness.

Sam sighed in relief, "yeah sure. Go ahead. I was just finishing up." Dean sauntered over to the sink and pulled out his toothbrush from the medicine cabinet. Sam practically ran out of the bathroom, eager to get changed as fast as he could. He hadn't expected Dean to be up already, but he knew his brother was too groggy in the mornings to be aware of pretty much anything. Sam pulled his duffle bag up off of the floor and fished through it to try to find a flannel shirt to wear. At the bottom of the bag Sam found a pale green flannel and a pair of jeans. After he was dressed, Sam felt a little more at ease. He had been up for half an hour and he hadn't heard of seen Lucifer at all.

"Hey," Dean said walking out of the bathroom, "let's grab some breakfast." Sam just nodded, fixed his shirt, and followed his brother down stairs.

"Was wondering when you two igits would get up." Bobby remarked. The older hunter poured himself another cup of coffee and chuckles to himself. Dean headed straight for the fridge, "Uh Dean? Don't you want some coffee?" Sam asked. "I want leftover pie," his brother said with a smile as he pulled out a plastic container from the fridge. Sam shook his head a little and grabbed an apple from the counter after pouring himself his own cup of coffee. Bobby joined Sam at the table while Dean leaned up against the counter.

"So, what're we gonna do about this Leviathan thing?" Dean questioned, pie crumbs falling out of his mouth as he spoke.

"To tell ya the honest truth," Bobby started, "I don't know." The older hunter looked down at his coffee before taking another sip.

"But why would they invade a hospital?" Sam asked. Dean mumbled something but Sam couldn't make it could, his mouth was too full.

"Easy access I guess, a whole bunch of people in one place, bodies get moved in and out all the time. It's like a buffet for people eaters." Bobby said, giving Dean the 'you really should've known that already' look. Sam took the last bite of his apple and got up to go throw the core when he heard it. That voice… Lucifer. "Ohhhhh Sammy!" Sam could see the fallen angel, standing there in front of him, just adjacent to the trash bin. Sam winced at the words, and brought a hand up to his hand to rub his temple.

"Sam?" Dean spoke up, "are you okay?" The older brother raised his eyebrow, suspicious of his brothers' expression. Sam shook his head; no.

"Yeah, umm, I'm fine. Just a headache." Lie.

Dean lowered his eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders, sincerely wanting to believe his brother. It was better to pretend to believe Sam, than to accuse him of lying. He didn't want to mess with his brothers' emotions more than they already had been. "Okay, if you say so."

Sam dropped the apple core into the bin and brought his hand down from the side of his head. Lucifer stepped closer, reaching out to touch the top of Sam's collarbone. The hunter turned around, trying to ignore the hallucination, and sat back down in his chair at the table.

"Saaaaaaaaaam," Lucifer cooed, "Why won't you talk to me? C'mon you were so talkative last night." He frowned and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. Meanwhile, Bobby had gone on talking about what he had been able to figure out about the Leviathans, and Sam tried to make it at least look like he was paying attention. Lucifer ran a hand through Sam's soft brown hair, "Oh come on Sammy, you know you can't ignore me." Sam pushed his right thumb into the cut on his hand and squirmed in pain. He looked up, Lucifer still stood there, smiling down at him. Sam pressed harder into his hand held under the table, out of sight from Dean and Bobby. "No gonna work huh, Buddy?" Lucifer leaned in close, Sam tried looking straight ahead at Bobby, tried to ignore Lucifer's' words. "That little hand trick isn't gonna work." The devil's smug face broke out into a smile and he laughed at himself.

Sam stood, "I umm, I have to go to the bathroom." He announced. Bobby nodded. "Sure kid, you know where it is," the older hunter said gesturing to his left with his coffee cup. Sam hurried down the hall, Bobby and Dean continued on with their conversation. Sam closed the door to the bathroom as quickly as he could without slamming it. Sam placed his hands on either side of the sink and looked up into the mirror. Lucifer stood right behind him, his hand still resting on Sam's' shoulder. Sam dared not talk back to him, too scared that Bobby or Dean would hear him since he was only just down the hall. Sam rolled his sleeves up, revealing the three still red lines on his arm. He could hear Lucifer snicker. "That's nothing Sam, couldn't you have done any better?" The devil laughed. Sam felt his face get hot, his eyes beginning to water. He couldn't take it. He just wanted to be normal again. Actually, he wished his soul had never been put back into place. But Cas was gone and the damage was done. He remembered Hell, and apparently, Hell remembered him. Sam ran him fingers along the thin cuts. They stung, but didn't hurt as badly as they had when they were made. Lucifer's image became blurry, Sam pressed harder down on the day-old cuts. The young hunter screwed his eyes shut and pressed down hard against the longest, reddest cut. Sam let out a small groan in pain, but quickly shut his mouth. When he opened his eyes again, Lucifer was gone. Sam rolled his sleeve back down and went to look back in the mirror. The devil wasn't there behind him, thankfully. Sam turned the faucet on and splashed a handful of cold water on his face, trying to get rid of the redness. After wiping his hands on the towel by the sink, Sam took a deep breath and headed back into the kitchen. "Took ya long enough," Dean joked. Sam forced a slight smile, trying to mask the fact that he felt like he was shaking. He shoved his hands down deep into his pockets and leaned up against the counter next to his brother. Bobby turned around in his chair to look at the pair, "So, as I was telling Dean, we really don't know how many Leviathans are out there. It's not like we can call Cas and ask him to give us the run-down of the situation. We're gonna have to resort to some good old-fashioned research. We need to try to get what we can before we make another move. I'm not letting you two igits charge in there blindly, guns flailing and end up as a Leviathans lunchables." Dean laughed and rolled his sleeves up, he looked over at his little brother, "better get to work then." Dean smiled and headed off towards one of Bobby's many bookshelves. "C'mon Sam, we don't got all day." Bobby patted Sam on the shoulder and smiled up at the young man. Sam gave a sheepish smile back at the older man and followed him towards the stacks of books strewn about a large table in the back of the room. Sam walked a few steps behind, rubbing his left forearm with his right hand, pressing against the cuts.

He couldn't bear the voice. He couldn't face the Devil; not again.


	3. Chapter 3

Night had fallen, the three hunters had spent the entire day digging through Bobby's enormous library trying to find more information about the leviathan.

"I haven't got jack squat Bobby," Dean says, setting another dusty book back onto the shelf.

"Yeah, well I guess we're just gonna have to look some more tomorrow," Bobby shakes his head and rubs his eyes. "I'm gonna go grab a beer." The sun had already set; the clock read 1:03am. Sam sat quietly in a chair by the window, pretending to read one of the books Bobby had suggested that he look through. But Sam couldn't concentrate… "Won't find anything in there buddy!" Lucifer flailed his arms in front of Sam's face, trying to rile up a reaction out of the young hunter. Sam furrowed his brows together and screwed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the nagging voice. "Oh c'mon Sam, it's so much more fun when this was a two-sided conversation. Talk to me man!" Sam grits his teeth together, the incessant chatter from Lucifer felt like it was pulling his brain apart. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy!" The former angel chanted, louder and louder, and louder. "Sammy! Sammy! Saaaaaam!" Dean glanced over at his brother, noticing the pained look across Sam's face. Instinctively, Dean walked over to check on him.

"Sam? What's going on?" Dean questions, crouching down next to Sam's chair. Sam rubs his forehead and rings his hands before he opens his mouth,

"I, I just-" he started to say, but his voice came out mumbled and raspy.

"Are you seeing him?" A look of concern swept over Dean's face, his eyebrows knitted together, he looked up at his brother. "Sam." Dean demanded again, trying to get his brothers attention. Sam's eyes looked glassy,

"Sammy! Sammy!" Lucifer called out, running his hands through Sam's brown hair. Dean reached out and grasped his brother's shoulder, "Sam if you're seeing him you have to tell me. Are you seeing him right now?" Sam just nodded his head, a short and quick up/down motion. Dean sighed deeply, "Sammy it's not real, okay? He's not real." He looked down at Sam's bandaged hand, remembering the incident in the warehouse.

"He says the same thing about you…" Sam mumbled out before trailing off, glancing up and over at the invisible devil.

"What?" Dean asked, shaking himself out of the memory. Sam looked down at his big brother, "he says you're the one that's not real." The words sounded like they had been chocked out of Sam's throat. Dean felt like the world had shattered around him. Had Lucifer truly gotten so far into Sam's head, that Sam couldn't even tell if his own brother was real? "Oh dear, that big brother of yours, always so tenacious. Do you think I did a good job creating his image for you Sammy?" Lucifer whispered against Sam's neck, icy breath on warm flesh. He shivered and Dean looked up into Sam's hazy eyes. It was like Sam was staring right through him.

"Lucifer's not real." He announced again, this time only louder. The creak of the wood floor interrupted Dean, Bobby stood there in the doorway. "Everything okay in here boys?" Bobby asked, his eyes narrowing to focus on the pair in the corner. Dean looked at Sam, then over to Bobby, "Yeah, yeah. Sammy's just tired. I think I better get him to bed." Dean forced out a little smile before standing back up again. "Okay…" Bobby's voice sounded suspicious, Dean knew he hadn't bought it. Bobby had practically raised the two, he knew Sam wasn't "just tired". Sam stood up next to his brother, wordlessly. His eyes looked puffy and his head hung low. Bobby took another sip of beer, "well, if you two igits need anything, you know where to find me. Dean wondered for a moment if Bobby was purposely staying out of the situation or if he really wasn't very clued in.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, barely loud enough to hear. Dean's eyes flickered up to the taller man's face, "I- I can't know… not really.." Dean didn't say anything in response, what could he say? Sam was supposed to believe him, was supposed to trust him above anybody else, but if Sam couldn't even tell what was real… Dean tried to not think about it as he lead the way back upstairs to their shared room.

Dean opened the door to the bedroom and let Sam in ahead of him. "How about you go take a shower, huh?" Dean suggested. Sam nodded his head and picked out some pajama bottoms and a soft long sleeve shirt silently. Dean sat down on his own bed, head in his hands. Sam walked over to the bathroom, "I'm sorry Dean," but before the older hunter could even look up, Sam had shut the door to the bathroom. Dean felt his face get hot, his head felt like it was caving in on him. This was killing him. Well, really it was killing Sammy, but Dean couldn't bare to see his baby brother like this. Sam didn't deserve this.

Once he was inside of the bathroom, Sam didn't even bother looking into the mirror before pulling the Swiss army knife off of the little glass shelf. He frantically rolled his sleeves up, "Oh Sammy…" He heard Lucifer sigh, calling out to him. The devil stood adjacent to the sink, hands reaching out to grasp Sam. "Not real, you're not real," Sam murmured under his breath, trying to look past the figure. "Oh I'm as real as can be, this cage is real, you're real. But this, this place, this is all just an illusion." The devil smiled, resting himself against the door. Sam looked away from Lucifer, back down at his left arm. The few once red lines had begun to heal slightly, and now appeared as small pink slits against his tanned skin. Without hesitation, Sam opened the army knife and pulled the blade across his skin. However, unlike the first time, Sam pressed harder this time. He needed Lucifer to disappear, to get out of his head. The devils image went fuzzy; it was working. Sam slid the blade across his arm again, this cut longer, it spread the whole width of his inner arm. Without looking up, Sam kept cutting. Small, one to two inch cuts all along his flesh. He had probably made at least half a dozen more before Lucifer's calls of "Sammy, Sammy!" Finally silenced. Once the voice had dissipated, Sam looked up. Lucifer was gone, for now.

He pulled off his clothes and turned the shower on. The water was too cold but Sam let it run all over himself. The water stung the freshly made cuts, but he figured it was better to wash them out than to let them crust over by themselves; even if it hurt. Sam sighed, washed his hair, rinsed himself off and got out of the shower.

After drying himself off, Sam peaked out the door, Dean was lying face down on his bed, gently snoring. Sam sighed in relief- he wouldn't have to get changed in the bathroom. The shower has made the tiled room muggy, which made Sam's skin itch. He grabbed his pajamas from off of the side of the sink. Sam wrapped a towel around his waist and reached to turn the lights off; when the door opened.

Dean stood in the doorway, "Hey Sammy I have to get my-" Dean trailed off as soon as he looked over at his brother, at his arm. The older of the two took fast steps forward towards Sam, who began to shake. "Sam!" Dean raised his voice, almost loud enough to yell. "What the hell?! How did you get those!?" Dean's face was red with anger, Sam looked away, down at the floor, over at the wall, anywhere that wasn't Dean. "Sam!" Dean barked up at him, "I said, how did you get those?" Dean grabbed the end of Sam's wrist and brought Sam's arm down in front of him. Tears swelled up in the young man's eyes, he refused to look at Dean. Embarrassment, shame, guilt, an abundance of emotion hit into Sam like a freight train. "Dean," Sam sobbed out, his brother's nails were digging into his wrist bone. "I just wanted it to stop…" His words were shaky and broken, tears began to roll down his cheeks. Dean tried to look into Sam's eyes, but Sam was still turned away. 'Stop what Sam?" He demanded. Sam turned towards Dean and jerked his arm away, "Lucifer."


	4. Chapter 4

Sam pushes past his brother, and into their shared bedroom. Sam raised his hands up, running them through his wet hair. "I need to get dressed," his voice was monotone, but Dean could see Sam's hands shaking as he frantically searched through his bag for pajamas. Dean's face burned, he felt like his whole body was on fire. He wasn't oblivious. He knew that those cuts were too fresh to have been from the run in with the Leviathans. He knew Sammy had been wearing his jacket that night in the warehouse. He knew what newly made cuts looked like. Sam pulled his pajama pants on under his towel before discarding the fluffy yellow fabric onto a nearby chair. Dean walked over to Sam, whose back was still turned to him. Dean reached out to touch Sam's shoulder, "I don't want to talk about it Dean." Sam huffed out, before Dean could even figure out what he would've said.

Sam turned and sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. He refused to look up at his big brother. The huge, strong, figure that was Sam seemed to crumble before Dean's very eyes. Sam's bare elbows were rested on his knees, his face red. He smeared his tears back off of his skin and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Dean stood in front of his brother, he felt like his blood had reached its boiling point. He looked over the red and pink lines across his brother's flesh. There were so many. The cuts were long, but thankfully not very deep. Yet the very sight of them terrified Dean. "Why did you do this Sammy?" He asked firmly, staring down at his brother. Sam only responded with another chocked out sob. Sam hadn't ever been a loud crier. When they were little, Sam would curl his knees up to his chest and cry silently so that their father wouldn't hear. Things hadn't changed.

As if right on cue, Sam scooted back in his bed so that his back rested up against the wooden headboard. He brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself, pressing his left arm into himself especially hard, in attempt to hide it from view. Dean walked over to the shaking figure of his brother, "Do you even understand what you're doing? What would dad think?" As soon as those words spilled out of Dean's mouth he wished that he could shove them back in. Sam would still, even after all of these years, tense up at the mention of their late father. Sam felt his heart sink even further down his chest, if that had been possible.

It felt like Dean might as well have punched in right in the gut. Their dad would've called him weak, would've told him to man up, or that he was doing this for attention. Sam let out a real cry this time, not soundless. Instead, the sob came out muffled, low-pitched, but audible nonetheless. Sam looked… broken. Dean has never seen his brother like this, so vulnerable. He swallowed hard; the lump in his throat wouldn't go away.

"Sammy, c'mon Sammy I didn't mean it like that." Dean turned to sit on Sam's bed. "Go away Dean." Sam grunted, burying his face into his crossed arms. "Sammy…" He reached out to pull the blanket up to his brother's feet, "I'm sorry okay? I just- I'm your big brother. I'm supposed to protect you, and I'm not doing a very good job at that. But I can't do that if you don't tell me what's going on Sam." Dean looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. How could he let this happen to Sam? Why did he let that wall come down? For a fleeting moment, Dean even thought that soulless Sam would be better than this Sam. This Sam was drowning, being tortured from the inside out, Sam was coming undone; Dean's baby brother was shattering right before his eyes and he felt helpless to stop it. "How about you leave me alone, okay?" Sam pulled the covers over himself and laid down, back turned to Dean. "Sam…"

"I'm an adult Dean. I'm not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself. This is how I'm taking care of myself. It's none of your business." Dean felt a pang in his heart, "Yes it is my business Sammy. You're killing yourself. You're hiding things from me. You're my baby brother and you, you are my responsibility. It's my job to take care of you, no matter what." Dean looked over at the clock, it was almost 2 am, and it felt like the night may never end. The uncomfortable silence made the seconds tick down slower and slower with each passing moment.

"Just leave me alone Dean." Sam bundled himself up, wrapping the warm blanket around himself, like a shield against his brother.

"Okay," Dean stood up, and took a few steps away from the bed. He didn't have the energy to fight Sam anymore, but really, he just wasn't sure what he should say. "Listen Sammy, we don't have to talk about this right now. Hell, I really don't think we should talk about it right now. You're freaking shaking for god's sake. But I'm letting you do this to yourself. We're going to go to bed, and we're going to talk about this in the morning. I'm gonna get you help Sammy. Whether you want it or not. I'm not letting you hurt yourself; not after all I've done to keep you safe." Dean felt his own eyes begin to swell up. He moved over to turn off the light when Sam spoke up, "What if I don't want help, Dean?" The hunter felt his heart drop. Sam needed help, and Dean was the one who needed to help him. It was his duty. He was big brother Dean. He had been so busy keeping Sam safe from outside threats, that he hadn't realized Sam may he his own biggest threat. Sam's mind had been shattered into a million tiny pieces, all scattered about his head. Dean reached out, and flipped the switch, turning the light out. "Goodnight Sammy," Dean kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed, not bothering to change out of his clothes. He half-heartedly hoped that Sam would say goodnight back, but instead his hopes were met with more meek cries and sniffles.

Sam pulled the covers over his head, he didn't cry. Especially not in front of Dean. But everything had come crashing down. He felt out of control, he felt weak, he felt helpless; and then he heard it; "Sam, ohhhh Sam…"


	5. Chapter 5

"Sammy, boy-king! Come on buddy, let me in." The voice, the one that plagued him called.. Lucifer's. Sam's back turned towards Dean, so that he was facing away from his brother; he didn't want Dean to see the tears. Sam sniffled, he knew that Dean could hear him, but it was the sight. Dean had alway treated Sam like he was so much younger than he really was, littler. Sam didn't want to be seen as any more vulnerable than he probably already looked. Sam pulled his long limbs in close to his torso, pulling the quilted blanket up and over his head. He wrapped himself up in the soft blue fabric, as if it could keep all the dangers of the world out; The bed frame creaked beneath him as he shifted, curling himself around the thin, case-less pillow.

"Don't mind Dean at all kiddo, he's not your real family anyways; I am." The Devil stroked his cold hand along Sam's cheek; and the hunter screwed his eyes shut. Lucifer laughed, "It's not like you can ever make me go away Sammy, I'm a part of you. We're so alike, we're practically brothers."

The beckoning continued, the young hunter couldn't even fathom how much time had passed, only that he hadn't slept. The soft calls of his name, nicknames, the jeers, the harassment, all of it, had kept the sleep at bay. Sam curled himself around the pillow harder, and covered his ears ears with his hands.

"Sam?" he felt a soft-resting weight against his upper arm. Turning over, he saw Dean, sitting down next to Sam's bed. The first few rays of the day's warm sunlight had begun to peak through the curtains, illuminating the room just enough for Sam to make out his brothers face.

"Dean?" Sam questioned. He had been expecting his brother to shake him awake, to demand that they talk, or at least, look even the littlest bit angry. But no; there was Dean, sat down at Sam's bedside with tears in his eyes.

"Dean I'm sorry," Sam mumbled as he sat up. Dean wiped his face off with the sleeve of his plaid shirt and stood up to take a seat next to his brother. The mattress shifted under Sam once Dean's weight was added, but then again, it wasn't like he had been comfortable in the first place. Sam brought his knees up to his chest and pulled the quilt up over his shoulders, the 6'4 giant of a man now looked as small as a child, and vulnerable, more so now than ever. Sam looked straight ahead at the forest green wallpaper that was peeling apart on the other side of the room. He didn't want to look at his brother. He couldn't. He had ruined everything for Dean, he thought.

"Sammy, we gotta get you some help." Dean explained. The older of the two was looking straight ahead as well, at the dark green wallpaper, thinking that he had ruined everything for his brother.

Sam moved to rest his chin on the top of his knees. "Dean, He started, "I'm, I'm not-" He could feel the heat starting to build up in his face. "Dean, you can't fix me. Nobody can." Sam looked away from the wall and over to the window. Pale yellow light has dispersed itself throughout the room; a fuzzy bumblebee flew past the glass window.

"Why Sammy?" Dean coaxed, putting his arm around his brother. He looked over at Sam, his huge, hulking brother now a small, shaking boy. Sam had hidden most of his face against his knees, brown hair fell in front of his hazel eyes.

"Do what Dean?" Sam huffed, a note of annoyance peaked through his voice.

"You know.." Dean trailed off. He didn't think that he could bring himself to say it. Because then he would have to face the fact that it was real. That Sam was killing himself.

"Do what Dean?" Sam repeated. He pushed some hair out of his eyes and tucked it behind his ear. "Start the apocalypse? Drink demon blood? Lose my soul? Cut myself?" His voice was exasperated, the words mangled. Dean has to resist all of his big brother instincts from just grabbing Sam and screaming and telling him that he cared and that thy were family, that they would make it through just like they always had and how they always will. But that wasn't the kind of Dean that Sam needed.

Dean took a deep breath and waited a few moments before even considering what to say next. Dean pulled his arm from around Sam's broad shoulder and reached out for his brother's forearm.

Sam flinched and pulled away, "please don't Dean," He whispered. There was a long moment of silence. The sunlight had began to warm the room, the little bee continued to buzz away outside, the radio had come alive with static and then a song downstairs. But between the two hungers, there was silence. Calm, silence.

"Why... why did you cut yourself Sammy?" Dean intoned softly, so as not to upset his younger counter part more than he already had.

"It's the only way to get him to stop." Sam explained. Dean furrowed his brow a little in confusion at first, but then he noticed it- Sam was staring off at the wooded chair in the corner of the room. _Oh._

"You're still seeing him?" Dean asked, "Lucifer? You can see him, can't you?" Sam turned his head towards Dean, finally facing his brother for the first time that morning. The whites of Sam's eyes were a pink-ish hue, obviously bloodshot. Sam's usually messily perfect hair was clinging to the sweaty parts of his neck and forehead while other bits stuck up wherever they seemed to please. There were dark purple half-moons forming under his eyes, and his skin looked too think when the light hit it; translucent almost.

"Yeah, all the time." Sam finally managed, after a few seconds of silence. "He only goes away, when I hurt." He huffed out, voice shaking, his hands too. "It helps make me feel real Dean. Like when you pressed into my hand at the warehouse." Dean's eyes widened, and he pulled Sam in for a hug.

"I'm so sorry Sam, I'm so sorry. I've always tried to protect you, it's kind of who I am. You know? I just never thought I'd have to protect you... from you." Dean rested his head on top of Sam's, holding him tightly. Sam had snaked his arms around his brother, his fingers dug into Dean's skin. But Dean didn't mind. He could feel Sam's shoulders shake, as his brother started to emit soft, tiny sobs.

"You're gonna get better Sam, I promise. We're gonna beat the Devil; one last time."


	6. Chapter 6

"Dean, I can't control it. I'm having a hard time figuring out what's real and what's not," Sam mumbled, He leaned against his brother's sturdy shoulder. Dean rubbed small circles along Sam's back, trying to calm him.

"Shhh," Dean whispered, "everything's gonna be okay. We're gonna get you through this Sammy. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself anymore."

"I don't know how else to keep him away. I can't sleep anymore Dean. He yells at me, so loudly." Sam's voice broke a little bit more with each word, the tears in his eyes tugged at Dean's heartstrings. Sam looked up at his big brother, "I'm scared." He had finally admitted it; he was downright terrified. Rightfully so, the Devil had taken up residence inside his brain.

"Hey, listen. How about we get you cleaned up first, all right? We'll stay in today. Not even mention the Leviathans, I promise. You take a shower and I'll tell Bobby." Dean suggested, patted his brother's shoulder. Sam's eyes went wide, "Tell Bobby what?" he asked meekly; he didn't want Bobby to know…

"We gotta tell him about what's going on. Listen, you get washed up and I'll tell him so you don't have to. Then we'll get your arms all cleaned up and we'll stay here, okay?" Sam swallowed hard, Dean was right; Bobby had to know. The younger hunter nodded, "okay Dean," he whispered, almost inaudibly. Sam pulled himself away from his brother and plodded over to the bathroom. "Meet us downstairs when you're done Sammy," Dean offered, trying to sound as kind as he could. He couldn't fuck up and say something wrong- not now. Definitely not now.

Once Sam had shut the shower door behind him, and Dean heard the water begin to run, the older hunter headed downstairs. The wood panels of the stairs squeaked a little bit under the weight of Dean's steps as he headed towards the kitchen. Bobby was hunched over the coffee pot on the counter, trying to fit the filter in correctly. "Mornin' Bobby," Dean called out. Bobby turned around to greet him, "mornin' igit." Bobby glanced around behind Dean for a moment, "where's Sam?" Dean's eye contact with his father figure instantly broke, his gaze now lowered towards the tiled floor. "Dean?" Bobby questioned, concern in his voice. "I gotta talk to you about Sam," Dean admitted, and motioned for Bobby to take a seat with him at the small table. "Sammy…" Dean's voice was breaking, "Sammy's hurting himself, Bobby." Dean's voice was strained, the words barely coming out. Bobby opened his mouth to reply as soon as Dean had spoken, before he even could comprehend what was being said. But then Dean could see it in Bobby's eyes, the realization, the _oh_ moment. "Those hallucinations, they're getting worse. He says it's the only way he can make them stop…" Dean trailed off, staring out the window, away from the older hunter. "Dean? Where is Sam right now?" Bobby asked sternly. Dean's eyes widened at the tone, "Bobby you gotta understand…"

Bobby rubbed his forehead, "I do understand, boy. We shouldn't leave him alone." Dean's shoulders slumped a bit; he had just left his brother alone upstairs. "He's in the shower. I told him that I'd tell you. He was crying Bobby." Bobby squeezed his eyes shut, _Sam didn't deserve this._

"I don't know what to do," Dean continued, biting harshly into his lip. "I don't know if there's anything we can do. Bobby interjected. His head was bowed, he looked as defeated as Dean. "Listen Bobby, we gotta take care of him." Dean whispered loudly, the faint sound of the shower upstairs had ceased. "Just gotta take care of him like he had the flu or something, I don't know, No Leviathan stuff today, okay? Only today, I promise. But putting all this pressure on him is only gonna make him worse." Bobby nodded in agreement, he didn't need to verbally reply. "We're going to be normal, for one day. I can't see my brother like this. I won't…"

But then came the quiet sound of footsteps. For a huge guy, Sam was light on his feet. His damp brown hair clung to the sides of his face and water droplets soaked into the top of his shirt. He had changed, thankfully. Now he was in a clean set of clothes, but soft clothes. Not his typical blue jeans and a flannel. Rather instead, Sam was dressed in his grey thermal shirt and black tapered sweatpants, they read _Stanford_ along the side of the right leg, in big collegiate letters.

Dean felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. _Stanford_. If he had never went to get Sam all of those years ago… Sam would be a lawyer, and probably married to Jessica. But Dean was quickly pulled out of his thoughts when his little brother pulled out the seat between the other two hunters at the table. Sam looked over to Bobby, the guiltiest look on his face. "I'm sorry Bobby.." he managed to say. Bobby sighed, and patted Sam's arm, "you're going to be okay kiddo, we're gonna fix you right up." Dean was surprised for a moment, he could hear the pain in Bobby's voice. "I'll make breakfast, that okay with you boys?" he eldest hunter asked, standing up from the table. "That's sounds great, thanks," Dean replied swiftly. He had almost forgotten how hungry he was. Sam nodded up and down, signaling a 'yes'. Bobby turned and went to work, pulling eggs out of the fridge and fumbling with the fancy coffee filter (that Sam had bought at a Whole Foods).

"Sammy, I'm gonna go get the first aid kit. We're gonna clean up your arms, okay?" Dean started, searching his brother's face for signs of reply. Sam just nodded, a small "okay," slipped out, much to Dean's relief. Sam reached for the newspaper that lay across the table from him and idly flipped through the pages, skimming through sports, comics, and weather.

Meanwhile, Dean dug through one of the dressers in their shared guest room in search for the first aid kit. He knew he had seen it somewhere. Finally, Dean found the little white box, crammed under the sink. He rummaged through it quickly, relieved when we saw bandages and rubbing alcohol. That should do the trick, Dean thought to himself. He hurried back down the stairs and back into the kitchen. Bobby was stirring a pan of scramble eggs over the stove, and Sam was carefully placing pieces of bread into the toaster over by the fridge. "Fill up three cups of coffee, will ya?" Bobby asked, not even having to turn around towards him to know that Dean was there. "Yeah of course," Dean replied, without fail. We reached to the top of the fridge where Bobby kept the coffee mugs instead of keeping them in a cabinet. But Bobby was Bobby, who cared if he kept his coffee mugs on top of the fridge.

Dean filled the three cups all the way up, and set them on the table. There were already three place settings out. Sam had probably done them, because the napkins were folded triangle-style. When the toast popped up, Sam carefully pulled each piece of the toaster, lining them up on one of the pale yellow plates. He set the plate of toast down in the middle of the table, in front of Dean who had already taken his seat. Sam went back to the fridge to grab a few things that Dean didn't recognize until they had been set on the table. His brother had grabbed butter, and strawberry jam. Jam had always been Sam's favorite growing up. Dean wondered if that was why Bobby kept a jar of it in his fridge. Bobby scooped the batch of scrambled eggs into a large bowl with a serving spoon and carried the bowl over to the table. He set the eggs down next to the toast and took his own seat while Sam grabbed an orange out of one of the fridge drawers. Sam came back to the table and took his own seat, "I hope you boys are hungry," Bobby said, breaking the silence. Sam smiled softly up at Bobby, "Thank you," he commented. Dean looked over at his brother. He wished that this was a normal occurrence for them. He wished that each morning they could sit down and eat together like normal people. Bobby spooned some eggs onto his plate and went on to scoop servings out for both Sam and Dean.

Sam put a piece of toast onto his plate, alongside his eggs before picking up the plate and holding it out to the two other hunters. Bobby gladly took two pieces and Dean grabbed one too. Sam carefully spread a glob of the strawberry jam across his toast, from one edge of crust to the other before cutting it diagonally down the middle. Dean smiled to himself a little bit, _at least Sam was eating._

The meal passed by quietly, each man a little too pre-occupied with his food. But also, because no one knew exactly what it was that they should say. Sam peeled his orange as Bobby and Dean polished off their coffees. Dean took his last sip before pulling the first aid kit box out from under the table.

Sam's face twisted a little bit, he was clearly uncomfortable; both Bobby and Dean could see that. "Just gonna clean your arm up, okay?" Dean said, reaching for the soft fabric of Sam's shirt. Sam bit down on his lip and hesitated for a moment before pushing his sleeve up. The cuts were still red and angry looking. A few raised and a few subtle lines. Sam squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, the two sets of eyes on his arm were edging him into panic mode. So far, Lucifer has been quiet that morning. Only fast glimpses of him dashed through Sam's mind. Sam looked away as Dean dabbed a cotton ball soaked in alcohol against the freshest cuts. Sam winced a little at the stinging pain. Bobby looked on, brows furrowed. Trying to decide what to say to Sam. Dean spread a thin layer of Neosporin all over the length of Sam's forearm, taking care not to press too hard against the split skin. Lastly, Dean wrapped some gauze around Sam's lower arm and tied it firmly against the cuts. "So, what do you want to do today?" Dean finally spoke up. Sam clenched his jaw before he spoke up, "Dean we don't have to-"

"Yes we do, Sam." Dean interjected, putting the supplies back into the first aid kit. "I umm, I don't know…" the youngest hunter trailed off, looking down at his freshly bandaged arm. Dean sighed and made himself smile a bit, for Sam's sake. "Then you know what? We're watching Star Wars." e pushed He


End file.
